by Susan Conley
Bracing herself, she opened the book.
Images, words, feelings all bombarded her. Information, scenes of Smythe’s life, came at her at the speed of sound, and she felt like she was standing in the middle of the largest, busiest place she could ever imagine, where people and beings rushed up to her, acknowledged her, then rushed back away.
The assault of sights and sounds and scents overwhelmed Mona to the point where they were her whole existence, and her body a memory.
Then the sensations stopped.
She breathed deeply.
Her heart stuttered.
Blinking, she focused on the room around her, she’d seen this room built, furnished, lived in.
With an almost audible snap, everything found a place to settle in her memory. All the learning that Abner had not yet been able to give her was with her.
A knowledge bequeathing spell. Apparently it was the one spell that could be directed at a Warder and actually work.
Which meant Smythe was dead.
Mona didn’t remember grabbing her things and running down the stairs or out of the library, nor the start of the tremors that shook the ground and buildings. Her newly acquired memory told her, however, that she needed to get the hell out of there before the place fell like a house of cards.
As she had when they were by the Maven’s old home, she sent out a note of warning to the non-human Folk in the area of the danger. She’d not seen any but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
The gate was already askew when she went to shoulder it open. As she squeezed through the foot wide gap between the huge wooden slabs, she heard her coat rip.
Then she flat out ran, stumbling as the earth shuddered from the impact of the massive slabs falling. Collapsing against the car, she took several deep breaths, the cold air searing her lungs.
That had been far too close a call.
She checked her phone, noting she had a bar or two of reception along with the time. While she’d been absorbing Smythe’s knowledge, an hour had passed. Strange. It felt like all the memories should have taken longer and, at the same time, that only a minute had passed.
Should she contact someone? No. She wasn’t going to tell anyone Smythe was dead over the phone. She was about to put the phone back in her pocket when a text came through from Nic. Meeting at D’Alesandro’s six p.m. Need you there. Tucking her cell away, she got in the truck.
Thankfully the engine started and she was able to turn around and get out.
Then, at the end of the drive, like a curtain waiting for her to pass through, there was a sheet of falling snow.
If the drive up had been frustrating, this was far worse. Visibility was poor, traction non-existent. The snowfall only let up as she neared some of the busier intersections of the rural highway, where gas stations and fast food outlets seemed to crop up suddenly in the lessening snow. The snow stopped all together when she hit the outskirts of town.
Some part of her recognized the pattern meant the system had somehow been tied to non-urban areas, likely to do with hindering non-human Folk. She’d never have known that without the information Smythe imparted. Having this unexpected knowledge was going to take some getting used to.
Despite the let up of precipitation, she drove carefully the rest of the way, wary of another ambush to delay her arrival.
Three blocks away from D’Alessandro’s she found the delay she was expecting.
Simple, yet diabolical.
The fire hydrants had burst, sending huge plumes arcing across street, and coating everything in a fifty-foot radius in water. In the below freezing temperatures, the water quickly turned to ice. Controlling the car as best as she could on the incredibly slick road, she slid over to the edge, got out, and determinedly, she set out on foot. She needed to get to the meeting before they were done. By the time she made it to D’Alessandro’s, her half frozen hands could barely grab the knob on the door.
“Mona!” Gabby, the night hostess started toward her.
Mona waved her aside and moved into the warmth of the building.
“I’ve got to get to the meeting.” Shivering and dazed, she knew she had to take that last step.
Suddenly drained, and realizing just how much she’d been running on adrenaline in her trek from the car, she teetered and stumbled down the back hall to the meeting room, each step painfully difficult. Gabby fluttered behind her, offering help; Mona had no energy to accept or reject. One last burst of energy and she shoved her way through the door.
As if in slow motion she saw Nic and Cart both vault a table, although Cart magically hopped the last few feet to get to her side first. Nic and Tania appeared a hairsbreadth behind him.
Sagging into Cart’s arms she felt some of her energy restore—she must’ve been pulling it out or he was unconsciously sending magic into her.
Message. She had a message she needed to deliver to the group.
“The Warder, he’s dead!” She hadn’t meant to shout, but the urgency to tell everyone created volume.
Her voice echoed through the stunned room.
“HOLD!” Randall’s voice rang through the room. “Maven, there is an imp here for you.”
In the silence a faint and feeble light glimmered to being in front of Tania.
“I’m Maven Titania, please start your message when ready.”
A couple of raspy breaths, then, “Four hundred eleven sixty.”
The Maven gasped. Nic put his arm around her, “We still don’t know what those numbers mean.”
Mona was so thankful to realize Smythe had sent them the same message.
The Puck gently scooped the fading light out of the air. He cupped the imp in his hand, an expression of deep sorrow on his face.
“Little Spark, you have served well and are an honor to the well spring of knowledge from which you sprung. Go in peace.”
The imp flickered then shone brightly through the spectrum of colors before fading out. A low keening filled the room, the note tinged with infinite sadness.
Mona sat in the chair someone had kindly put behind her. An imp had died. More than anything else, and there had been a lot of other things, the death highlighted just how severely something wrong was occurring. Imps didn’t die. Everything she’d learned from Smythe was telling her this was impossible. Yet it had happened.
Randall looked up at the group, his expression fierce. Crap, she knew he was going to do a binding and she was in no shape to argue him out of it.
“Maven, you’ll find who is doing this and bring them the swift justice of the Folk.” His stentorian tones echoed through the hall and no doubt beyond.
Tania did something, a tweak of magic that morphed into a full spell. There was a slight flare and the magic settled. Mona gasped at the suddenness and the beauty of it. She felt like she’d been reading runes and symbols in block letters and now was looking at them in what her Dad called copperplate, elegantly curved writing that celebrated the beauty and symmetry of the work.
Between one blink of the eye and the next Tania was in an outfit fit for a Queen at the Elfhaven court. Mona, along with most of the room, stared in awe at the jewel encrusted tiara and crimson sash heavily decorated with medals. She actually heard Nic gulp at the sight of the gossamer dress. Not much was left to the imagination.
The scepter in Tania’s hand only added to her regal appearance. All around, Weres knelt or bowed or curtsied. Mona started to follow suit, only to find Cart clamping his hand on her shoulder and keeping her in the chair.
Tania regally nodded at everyone, gesturing immediately that they rise, a small smile playing on her lips as she waved and bowed her head to the children in the back.
“With the Buffalo Were Pack and my protector as witnesses,” Tania said, turning to face Randall, who Mona could tell was trying to hide how impressed he was by the Maven’s actions. “I agree to search for the one who has harmed the imps, and has imprisoned and coerced the Buffalo Pack Weres.”
The Maven h
ad been told, or perhaps already had known, about the spelled Weres. Mona was glad Randall had pushed Tania into taking action on what clearly was no longer just a pack problem.
Tania’s voice rang through the room and, like Randall’s had earlier, beyond; such a pact would be heard by all Folk within several miles. Which made Mona wonder if any of those they sought would hear the binding.
“Seek those who’ll help you,” Randall said.
Tania’s eyes narrowed with annoyance. Mona could tell she didn’t like Randall’s request but wasn’t going to turn him down. She ran her fingers down her sash, stopping at a small pouch that had been pinned on. Oh my. Mona could read the contents through the bespelled fabric. Fairy dust.
The pinch she took was infinitesimal and she kept her finger in her palm to keep it from floating away. A few particles sifted out and hung iridescent in the air. Mona watched as Tania’s magic reached out and swirled with the floating bits.
“May all who shall go forth with me to confront this being be marked and made known,” Tania ritually invoked.
Somewhere a memory from Smythe rose up of a similar action in a long ago time, but the image faded before Mona had done more than recognize the similarities of posture and word.
Tania lifted her hand, palm up, and blew gently on the dust as she turned in a circle. Prismatic sparkles lingered in her wake. Once her revolution was complete, they flashed brightly and surrounded Mona.
“Hi, Warder.” The Puck grinned, momentarily dropping his fierce persona. His mood swings were starting to worry her, because as soon as his gaze left her, he became solemn again, his bushy eyebrows drawn in a straight line. “Mona Lisa Kubrek, you have been chosen.”
As soon as Randall finished, the particles left and immediately reappeared as glittering particles surrounding Cart, who stood by Mona’s seat.
“Training Leader and Protector Josiah Carthage Dupree, you are chosen,” Randall said.
Then the dust did an odd thing—it went to Nic, flying around his head and then spiraling down his body, but left to circle back to the Maven before the Puck intoned his name.
A slight hesitation, then Randall said: “Niccoli Machiavelli Lombard, you too join in the pursuit of justice.”
Mona sensed confusion from the Weres on Nic’s participation. But unlike them, she was informed, in Smythe’s dry voice, of two factors at play. First, with Tania committed, Nic, as her protector, was also committed, so his being named was not needed.
And two, he was still coming into his powers. There was a very good chance, once they settled, and likely by the end of their search, Nic would have a different title than Protector. The Puck would not bind him by title until his powers fully manifested.
Mona shook her head, not liking Smythe’s didactic recitation of the Puck’s reasoning. She noticed Tania looked taken aback that the dust was done but still stood straight as she said her part of the binding.
“With those called forth, I’ll mete the retribution of the Folk on behalf of the imps and the Buffalo Pack Weres.”
“So mote it be,” Randall and Averill said in unison, each within their rights as leaders to bind her. In Mona’s head a thready, reed-like version of Smythe’s voice urged her to join in the binding, but she ignored it.
Silence spread out as the binding took. Mona saw the spell settle on Tania and more lightly on Cart. Nic was not tagged by it at all. Interesting. Of course, she wasn’t either, but then that wasn’t unexpected.
The crowd stayed motionless, stunned to have witnessed the stuff of legends; at least, she knew she was.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Cart said, his voice clear and loud. From where he’d moved behind her, with his hand on her shoulders, he started barking directions and people shook themselves out of their mesmerized state. His stance radiated irritation. At her? At the Puck? Hard to tell.
Nic came and eased her out of Cart’s grasp; for a moment she thought Cart wasn’t going to let her go.
“Let me get her out of the middle of everything,” Nic said.
Cart removed his arm, but not before whispering into her ear. “You will never put yourself in danger like that again.”
Cart moved away, not allowing her the chance to speak. Idiot man! While she had no desire to put herself in harm’s way, she wasn’t going to avoid her job because he thought she needed to be safe.
Fuming, she and Nic shuffled around the edge of the room, her muscles protesting with every step. Once she was seated at a table along the far side of the room, Nic got her a water bottle and told her to take several sips. The water helped, although she was still a bit shaky and furious. Mona asked for some food but he suggested she wait to make sure the water stayed down first.
Tania, she noted, had changed out of most of her regalia and was approaching them with a large mug of coffee in her hands.
“You okay, Mona?” Tania asked as she set the cup on the table next to her.
The reply wasn’t automatic. She took stock of herself. She felt faint, definitely bruised, her palm bled from a scrape she didn’t remember getting, her ears were ringing. And she wanted to give Tania’s cousin a piece of her mind.
Things could have been worse. “Yeah, I think so. I—”
“Wait, don’t say anything yet, Mona.” Cart came up behind Tania, Emetaly by his side. She saw his barely contained rage even if no one else did. Although the shifters did seem to be giving him a wide berth.
“I want Emetaly to make a formal recording.”
Mona ignored Cart and looked at Nic, who nodded at her encouragingly.
“First I need to know how Raine is doing.”
“We checked and she’s still in a holding pattern,” said Cart. “The only good news is the babe is still healthy.”
Mona nodded. “Any more attacks?”
“No. Current thought is that the fireball you sent back did some damage.” Cart held his hand out to stop any further questions. “Let's make this record first, I’ll answer your questions later.”
“Okay.” Mona took a deep breath. Cart had heard much of this already, but not Nic or the Maven. She had no idea how much he’d shared with his crew. “I need to start the day before the collapse of the skyway. I got a phone call from my friend Raine. . .”
Her tale came out between sips of the sweet milky coffee. She did skip some bits, like, oh say, having sex with Cart. Several of the Weres, including Hyram and Tiff walked by to check on her, but didn’t interrupt.
Finally she got to the collapse of the compound, and then her walk this evening through the icy streets.
“Once I hit the broken fire hydrants it was tough, like someone poured buckets of ice over all the cars. The lot here looks particularly frozen.”
Cart caught Menlo’s eye. He’d been hovering at the periphery for the last twenty minutes or so. Menlo nodded and headed out.
Tania leaned in and said something to Nic when she was done. Cart stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed, his glare hard to avoid, so she didn’t.
“How’s Tiffany?” she asked.
“She’s fine, got a bit of a burn but it’s already healing.”
“Good.”
Tania headed to the other side of the room. Nic stayed with Mona but his attention was clearly with the Maven.
“Any chance I can have some food?”
Nic didn’t look as if he’d even heard the question.
“Let me see what I can do,” Cart said.
“Mushrooms, if they have them. Whatever is fine, though, I’d rather have something sooner than wait.”
As soon as he left. Nic turned his attention to Mona. Not as oblivious as he seemed.
“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Mona asked before he could grill her.
“No. But I don’t think I could stop it now even if I wanted to.” He glanced over at Tania, who’d settled in by the kids’ corner. “Everything okay between you and Dupree?”
Mona shrugged. She wasn’t sure. “Ju
st growing pains, I think we’ll be okay.”
“You need me to read him the riot act?”
“Nah, we’ll figure it out.” Some of what Smythe imparted helped her understand a bit of Cart’s reaction to the death of the shifters in the fireball. She still hated that they’d died, but she understood a bit better why Cart had reacted the way he did.
Cart entered the room, hands full of food, only to be waylaid by Tania. Whatever she said helped ease some of the tension from his shoulders. He looked across the room at her. Mona held his eyes, unwilling, unable to look away. He could not dictate her actions, could not rule over her, and he needed to realize that. A smile formed and he crossed. Mona would have to find out what Tania had said. In the meantime, the smell of mushrooms masala wafted across the room.
“Any other news to pass along?” she asked Cart. Oh, she was still mad at him, but this wasn’t the place to talk about it.
“You were right about Kofi. She blasted a hole in the wall. I took her back to New York and met with the local coven about her training. Just got back yesterday.”
“Wait, I thought witches and Folk avoided each other.” Nic moved out of Cart's way.
“Typically, not always,” she said around the tail end of a mouthful of food.
“Get Tania to fill you in, this is stuff you need to know,” Cart said. He snatched a string bean.
“Getting her to talk about Folk is almost impossible but I’ll try.” Nic swiped a bean as well.
Mona pretended to go after both of their hands with her fork. “Mine. You got to eat earlier.”
“Yeah, but yours tastes better,” Cart said unrepentantly as he filched another.
“That’ll cost you. Go get me some more water,” she said, covering her plate with her arm.
“My turn. So, what have you and Tania found out?” she asked Nic as soon as Cart headed to the waiter's station. There was a slight twitch in his shoulders that made Mona realize he had heard her, although he kept going.
He stilled. “About what?”
Now that was an interesting reaction. Before she could formulate a reply he started across the room. “Tania’s done with the kids, I need to go.” He looked like a warrior or something off to defend his property.
